My Death Sentence
by DropsOfJupiter
Summary: JD has a brain tumor. There, I said it.
1. JD

Monday night, Turk and I stayed in and watched a movie. Gone with the Wind, on HBO. That Rhett Butler, I tell you... 

Anyway. 

The movie was just finishing up when I got this headache that came on all of a sudden. Sure, it hurt, but being the manly man that I am, I worked through the pain and came out on top... 

"Mommy, my head hurts, and I wanna go to bed." 

Talk about coming out on top. But it really did hurt. 

"Bed," Turk repeated like he'd never heard the word before in his life. "It's nine-thirty, dude." He laughed. "Oh, I see, man. You got a girl in there waiting. Ol' Right Hannah. You're gonna slap the one-eyed snake around a little." 

"No, I don't--" 

"Hey, I understand," Turk said, smirking like only Turk can smirk. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't beat around the bush now and then. Heh." 

I smiled weakly and got up from the couch. "'Night, man." 

"Oh, you're serious," he called after me as I went to my room and shut the door behind me. Yeah, I was serious. And so was this headache. Oh, Mother. I shucked my pants off, but didn't go anywhere past that. Turk is the only one in this apartment who sleeps in the nude. And occasionally Carla, when they're sleeping in the nude _together_, but I shouldn't say anything about that because I don't want Carla to hurt me. Eep. 

It was hot that night. I took my shirt off, too, and collapsed into bed. Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids, but pain rushed up and down my neck and through my temples, making sleep pretty much impossible. 

I couldn't help thinking, as I reached for a bottle of Tylenol on my nightstand, that this was the fourth head-splitting migraine I'd had this week. Sure, I _was_ a first-year resident, just out of med school, but Elliot never got headaches. She _did_ have the unfortunate habit of puking up her guts during breaks, though. I guessed that we could just chalk it all up to stress. 

Stupid stress. 

*** 

_this is going to be a chapter story, if i decide to continue it...i'm thinking about doing it from different points of views, even though i can't stand stories written from different POV's. Go figure, huh? let me know if you enjoy this!_


	2. Elliot

JD screeched into rounds twenty minutes late, and I couldn't help noticing how tired he looked. Dr. Kelso, however, gave his patented I-want-to-kill-you-but-you're-not-worth-the-effort glare. 

"_Dr. Dorian--_" 

"Sorry, sir, it won't happen again," he said quickly, with a little half-salute. I looked away, hiding a tiny grin. Sometimes I really admire JD. Maybe it's the way he handles things without ever getting embarassed. All I know is that if it were me that were late, I'd be melting into the floor right about now to avoid Kelso's death look. 

As we rounded the corner, I caught his eye and he gave me a quick, weary smile. It looked like he hadn't had a decent REM cycle since World War Two. "You look like crap," I mouthed. 

He furrowed his brow in confusion, and I repeated what I'd said. After the fifth or sixth time he finally got it and whispered back a sarcastic "Thanks." 

"No problem." 

And then I had to repeat _that_ another half a dozen times before he understood. 

We saw a few more patients, and then I went on break. JD, on the other hand, went straight to Kelso to explain his tardiness. 

"See, um, sir, I, well...my clock fell off the wall and I was taking a nap, so when I woke up, I didn't see the clock, figured I was dreaming or in the apartment of that--" he grinned "--smokin' chick down the hall, and fell back asleep." 

"Now, _there's_ a lie if I ever heard one," said Perry Cox, passing by on his way to the elevator. "Do us a favor, Betsy, and never, _ever_ say the words 'smokin' chick' again. It's just not cool." 

JD looked a little put off by that statement and pouted. "Um, actually, Dr. Kelso, to tell the truth, I wasn't feeling well and overslept. And then I threw up. On the way to work. At a stoplight." His eyes got a far-off look. "The guy in the lane next to me wasn't very happy. It was awfully projectile..." 

Kelso appeared sickened. 

"...His windows were open," JD finished. 

"Nice one, Newbie," Dr. Cox threw in as he passed by again, this time in the opposite direction. "Ten points!" He gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up. 

Dr. Kelso waved an exasperated hand before striding away. "Don't let it happen again or else you'll be doing nothing but rectal exams for a whole month!" 

"Eek," JD mumbled, grimacing. He caught me observing the whole thing over by the nurse's station and shuffled over. "Hey, Elliot. Know where I can get some Tylenol?' 

"This is a hospital," I laughed, "they have aspirin in every single room in here." 

"Oh," he said with a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I guess that would make sense." His voice was quiet, subdued, like he was trying hard to ignore something, or hide it, maybe. He wasn't doing a very good job of it. Something was not quite right with JD, it was easy to tell. I just couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. 

He grabbed a chart from the counter and started toward the end of the hall, toward pediatrics. I watched for a moment, then followed. 

"So, how about that Tylenol?" 

He gave me a sidelong glance. "You think you could hook me up?" 

"I got my connections," I said, playing along. 

JD smiled in a far-off, distant kind of way and tripped over his foot. "Oops..." 

I giggled. 

"Pretend you didn't see that," he said. 

"See what?" 

"There ya go." 

*** 

"Elliot?" 

JD came out of the pediatrics ward wearing a very frustrated look on his face. "Think you could help me with this patient? I've got a, uh, fifteen year old boy who was admitted a few hours ago with dehydration, but now he's..." he paused and shook his head a little, "complaining of nausea and--dammit!" 

"What?" I asked, alarmed. 

His forehead scrunched up in defeat. "Nothing, I just...can't think today. Or ever. Never mind. Oh, yeah...nausea and vomiting. And labored breathing. That's what my patient is complaining about," he explained lamely. 

"Have you taken a blood test yet?" 

"Yeah. Uh. I think. Yeah. The results are right here." 

I quickly scanned the sheet he handed me. "Looks like he has diabetes. Type one. He's probably in ketoacidosis right now." 

"Hey, you're right! Thanks, Elliot!" He grinned broadly at me. I grinned back. And there we stood, in the middle of the hospital, grinning at each other like two idiots. I was first to break the silence. 

"Um, JD...you do know that you probably need to get him up to the ICU before he goes into diabetic coma?" 

The grin slid off his face faster than you can slide across a waxed kitchen floor with your socks on. "I'll be right back." 

He sprinted down the hall, stumbling over his feet a couple more times. I watched him go, then noticed that I was still smiling. 

Hm. I mentally slapped myself, then went back to work. 

*** 

About nine hours later, work was finished and we left the madhouse. Turk and JD tried to lure me to their apartment with the promise of delivery pizza and warm Diet Coke. And I was lonely, so I said yes. I have a sad life. 

So Turk was all in a huff because one of the surgeons called him Peter three times today. _(Peter! Like the little fairy dude with the green tights!)_ Usually Turk is the one complaining, I'm the one that laughs at everything, and JD makes all the corny jokes. JD was being a little quiet, though. 

"How's your patient, JD?" I asked as they walked me to my black Honda Civic. 

He barely looked up. "Oh, he's doing fine. Yeah, he'll be...fine." 

"Are you sure you're okay? That was a pretty easy case there, and you totally missed it." 

"Yeah, I was just really out of it today." 

My car was parked under one of the many streetlights dispersed every few yards along the sidewalk. As we moved into the dim yellow glow, it illuminated us for a moment, and I caught JD's gaze. He really did look awful. I honestly don't know how he was even holding himself up; it was easy to see in his eyes that he was beyond exhausted. 

"Could I ride with you back to my place?" He asked as I unlocked my door. It almost sounded like a desperate plea. 

I looked at Turk, shocked, and his expression was worried. "You okay?" He patted JD's shoulder in a sort of touching, manly gesture of concern. JD glanced at him, then at me. 

"My head's really killing me," he said weakly. 

"Hey, no problem, man, I'll drive you home," Turk said, "and you can catch a ride in with me tomorrow and pick up your car." 

"Okay." 

I swallowed hard and wondered why I felt so disappointed. "Hey," I said, as they turned to leave, "do you still want me to come over? If you're not feeling well, JD..." 

"No." His reply was quick. "I'll be okay. Come on over." 

They shuffled away. I got into my car and drove off. 

*** 

_So finally, I finished this chapter. I'm really sorry it took so long, but it was a lot harder to write than i thought it would be. I don't know, I'm not really sure if I want to continue this story. Well, I want to, but it's so hard! Maybe I'll change the whole POV thing. _

Thanks to everybody who reviewed! it was the only thing that really pushed me to get this next chapter out. Thought it might suck. i don't know. 

And it's starting to become clear to me that this is gonna be a JD/Elliot fic. Yeah, pretty obvious if you look at this chapter. Well, just wanted to mention that... :) 

P.S. Any ideas for a title? I'm at a loss. 


	3. From Bad to Worse

When they got back home forty-five minutes later, Elliot was sitting on the steps. She looked cold. JD's heart tugged a little as she glanced up, a strand of hair falling gently into her face. 

"Finally, you guys get here! I was waiting for a half an hour." She lowered her voice. "That homeless guy across the street was giving me creepy looks." 

"What, Bob?" Turk said. "The man's not homeless, he's got more money than I do!" 

"I like him," JD spoke up suddenly. "Sometimes he gives me a dime and tells me to buy myself an ice cream sundae." 

They both looked toward him, as if he'd made a sudden and miraculous recovery from earlier that night, but those couple of sentences had drained what little energy he'd managed to gathered up during the car ride home. He sank down next to Elliot. 

"Come on," she said, immediately getting up, "we'd better get you inside." 

And JD was happy to oblige. 

*** 

The only thing he could remember was the awkward silence that enveloped them that night. No one really felt like talking, maybe they all had something on their minds. 

JD lay on the couch, his head resting in Elliot's lap. His brain was fuzzy and one elusive thought danced beyond the tips of his outstretched fingers, teasing him, evading him. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but when his eyes shifted to Elliot and studied her as she studied a loose thread from her hospital scrubs, that thought bunny-hopped farther away from his conscious mind and into the depths of space, and he could not grasp what it meant. 

"So," Turk said, "we still ordering out?" 

"Sure." 

Again, their heads swiveled to JD like it was some sort of defining moment and he was going to make a decision that would change life as they all knew it. 

"Nah, I'm not too hungry." 

They looked crestfallen. Perhaps he'd made the wrong choice. 

"But you guys can go ahead and call for pizza if you want," he finished hastily. 

"What's wrong, JD?" Elliot asked. Her gentle touch brushed against his face, searching for fever. She'd somehow corrected her poor circulation problem, and her hands didn't feel like ice anymore. It was...kind of nice, actually. Made him feel loved. 

"What?" She caught his gaze. 

"Nothing," he said, "my stomach's just kind of...pukey." 

Turk stared at the two, blinking. "_Oh,_" he said suddenly, and quietly got up, leaving the two alone. They barely noticed. 

"It's getting a little late. Maybe I should start heading back home..." 

"No." JD gripped her hand tightly and sighed. "Stay over. It's okay. I just--" 

She cocked her head. "Just what?" 

"I would...miss you. If you left. That's all." 

Elliot studied his pleading eyes, asking a million questions without saying a single word, and he didn't have an answer for any of them but it was okay. She patted his hand and nodded slightly. 

He smiled, relieved. A tiny chuckle rose up in his throat, and he laughed out loud. 

"What?" She asked. 

"Nothing. My head hurts so bad. But--" he laughed again, and this time she joined him, giggling a quiet giggle, though she didn't know why. "All that's going through my mind is that your lap is so comfortable. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." 

When Turk stumbled into the kitchen an hour later for a glass of water, they were sleeping in each others' arms. He shook his head a little, smirking, and went to cover them with a blanket. 

*** 

"Hey." Dr. Cox came storming down the corridor, looking furious. "You. Barbie. Where the hell is Newbie?" 

Elliot looked up. "JD? I don't know." 

He made a low, growling noise deep in his throat, and her eyes widened in alarm. "Um...I think he went on break?" 

"Wonderful," he said, pounded his head a few times with the chart he held in his hands, and took off. Carla watched him go. 

"What was that all about?" 

"Oh, it's Dr. Cox on the rampage," Elliot said loftily. 

"I wouldn't say that if I were you," Nurse Roberts said. 

"Why not?" 

"Because. Dr. Cox...he sees all...he hears all." She shuffled over to them and put her face up to Elliot's. "He knows all." 

Elliot looked frightened and scurried away. The two nurses laughed and high-fived each other. 

*** 

So, JD wasn't in the the doctors' lounge. He wasn't outside. He wasn't in a patient's room. And Dr. Cox was in a real, honest-to-God rage. Foaming at the mouth, he shoved open the door to the stairwell and thundered down the stairs, tripping over something in between the third and second floors. 

"What the--" 

Then the "thing" stirred. 

"Dr. Cox," it said weakly. 

Taking in the scene, Dr. Cox took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. "God. Newbie." He immediately kneeled down to check JD's pulse. 

JD pressed both palms to his temples and squeezed hard. "I, uh, I threw up." His voice was quiet, ashamed. Cox deftly lifted JD's half-closed lids and examined his pupils. 

"How long have you been here?" 

"I--I don't know. I can't move." 

The anger Cox had felt only moments before melted away, and the bedside manner that made him so good with the patients who deserved it quickly took its place. This man in front of him wasn't JD, the annoying, goofy resident. He was JD the patient; in pain, scared, and needing help. 

"Listen to me, Margaret, and listen good. You're sick, and I don't know what's wrong, but I'm gonna go get someone to help you out of here. Okay? Listen to me, JD." 

JD nodded a little and slumped against the concrete wall. 

"Don't fall asleep just yet, Newbie, or you're bound to miss all the fun." Dr. Cox got up and opened the stairwell door. The nurses' station was just around the corner. 

"Carla!" He gestured wildly to her. "Get a gurney and have a nurse call x-ray; tell them we need an emergency MRI." 

"I can call x-ray," she said, already wheeling a gurney over. 

"No, I need you here," Cox said pointedly. He opened the door as she pushed the gurney into the stairwell. 

"Oh my God, Bambi!" She dropped down to JD and felt his forehead. "What happened?" 

"I don't know, but I have the strange, gnawing feeling that it's _not good_." Dr. Cox could be an ass when he was worried. Carla ignored him. 

"We lift on three." She took his legs and Dr. Cox grabbed him under the armpits. "One...two..." 

"Oh, get on with it. Three!" 

Carla gently readjusted him on the stretcher and looked up at Perry. "He looks terrible." 

"No kidding." Dr. Cox slammed a frustrated fist into the door and flexed his knuckles, wincing. Carla smirked. 

"Feel better?" 

"Tons." 

*** 

_Ugh...I feel like this was a _little_ melodramatic, and maybe just a _tad_ OOC...oh hell, I feel like I'm writing an ER fic, not Scrubs. On another note, I was watching this week's super-sized Scrubs and have come to the official conclusion that I am totally, pathetically in love with JD. Not Zach Braff, but JD. I mean, I get this goofy smile on my face whenever he comes on the screen. Has anyone else ever felt like this? _

Also feel like I have a huge crush on Dr. Cox, too. That explains the last scene in this chapter. I seem to have a thing for older guys...way older guys...like the host of Good Eats. Now, he's_ sexy. Almost as sexy as Dr. Cox. _

Sigh. I have problems. 

Anyway, thanks for reviewing :) 


	4. Nothing Short of a Miracle

"Where are you taking me?" JD asked suddenly as they waited for the elevator. 

Dr. Cox barely glanced at him. "Hey, how ya feeling there, Mary Anne? Hope that shot of morphine has you doped up really good because you're going up to the sixth floor for emergency cranial MRI--whoo! Whoo!" He mimicked cheering and rolled his eyes. "Oh, and by the way, how's your claustrophobia?" 

"What? Guys, I don't--I don't think I need an MRI, do I?" JD tried to get up and was pushed gently down by Carla. 

"Yeah, Bambi, you really do." 

"Come on, I mean..." 

"Can it, Mary Anne." Dr. Cox frowned impatiently. JD continued to complain. 

"...for one little headache? I mean, doesn't that seem kind of stupid to you?" 

"Carla," Dr. Cox said, forcing exaggerated pleasantness to his voice, "take our patient back to the exam room we just had him in." 

"What? Where am I going now?" 

"Well, I'm going to be yelling at you in a few seconds, and though the thought of publically humiliating someone is always a turn-on for me, I'd hate to disturb the rest of the patients. Listen here, Marge, if you don't remember, just ten minutes ago you were lying in a stairwell almost unconscious from the pain your head, and I don't know how they do it at Hospital of the _Stupid_, but over here we'd want to find out _why_ it happened so, by the grace of God, it doesn't happen again. So we stick you in a big metal contraption-thing and make you lie completely still with a wall this much in your face--" Dr. Cox put his palm about two centimeters away from his nose with an exaggerated motion, "--for a half an hour at the least...sadistic, isn't it? Silly us. We just wanted to...to _help_ people." He began sobbing, then stopped abruptly. "So how 'bout letting us do our jobs, which is deciding what's best for our patient, which is, at the moment, you. Can you..._possibly_ handle that?" 

JD stared deadpan at his superior. "Dr. Cox, I don't want an MRI. I want to get back to work, and I will do so AMA if I have to." 

"Just for the record," Cox said, stripping off his latex gloves and slamming them into a nearby trash can, "you're making a really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really _big_ mistake." 

"Yeah," JD mumbled, "says you." 

"No, Newbie. Don't make this about me. Why don't you ask yourself what _you_ would do if you had a patient complaining of severe headache, nausea, numbness in arms and legs, and any other symptoms he's chosen to hide from us?" He studied JD, curious, almost incredulous. "What _would_ you do?" 

"My patient might have a migraine," JD defended weakly. He got up, a little unsteadily, and said, "I'd like to get back to work now." 

Carla went around to the defeated Dr. Cox and patted his shoulder as JD left. "Perry, I know you have a soft spot in there for the kid." 

He forced a laugh. "Me? Capable of human emotion? I thought you knew me better than that." 

"I do. And you put your mean face on and treat him like crap, but there's something deep in your heart that's wishing Jordan has a baby boy and he turns out just like Bambi over there." 

"Ugh." Dr. Cox groaned at the thought and grimaced like a cat coughing up a hairball. "All this touchy-feely crap is making me itch." 

"Can I give you a bit of advice?" 

"Can I _stop_ you from giving me a bit of advice?" 

"Talk to the kid. You know he's scared of finding out whatever's wrong with him, and with his symptoms it _could_ very well be a migraine, or it could be something a lot more serious. Sit down with him, father to son--I don't know, friend to friend...tell him how concerned you are. And if that doesn't work, watch him." 

Cox looked skeptical. "Watch him." 

"Like a hawk." 

*** 

After that little run in with Dr. Cox, JD felt like maybe he'd better steer clear of him for a while. 

"Hey there, Linda." 

_Dammit._

"Hi, um, sir." 

Dr. Cox gritted his teeth and forced himself to sling a jovial (or what he hoped was jovial; he'd never actually _been_ jovial before) arm around the resident. "How 'bout grabbing some lunch at the cafe? Heard they're serving some sort of beef-sludge thing today." 

"Um, no thanks, I'm not too hungry." 

"Nonsense, Priscilla. Lose any more weight and you'll have the body of an eight year old girl." 

_Ouch._ "Heh, heh," he laughed weakly and detached himself from Cox's death grip. "I think Mrs. Palmer needs a new IV. Gotta go, bye!" 

Dr. Cox glared poison darts at him as he sauntered away. "Soft spot, my ass," he grumbled. JD overheard and raised a confused eyebrow. 

"Hello there, Mrs. P.," he said with as cheerful a voice as he could muster, entering his patient's room. God, even with that dose of morphine they'd given him, he still felt like crap. Sure, the pain was dulled, but it wasn't _just_ the pain that bothered him anymore... 

"Don't call me Mrs. P.," she said back. He laughed uneasily. 

"Righty-oh, Mrs. Palmer! Um...I'm gonna change your IV, if that's okay...with you..." 

He decided to stop talking and instead focused on the task at hand. Wrapping the rubber tourniquet around the elder lady's upper arm, he dabbed her wrist with antiseptic. Standard procedure, IVs were; he'd done dozens of them on cadavers, even more on real, live people. But at that exact moment, positioning the needle over her skin, JD felt unsure. 

His vision swam; both hands were numb, he was having trouble controlling them. Blinking hard, JD stepped back. Mrs. Palmer eyed him suspiciously and drew back her arm. 

"I, uh...I need to be somewhere else." 

"Hold on, Doogie! What about my IV?" 

"I'll call a nurse," he said over his shoulder. Clenching his hands into fists, he exhaled, breathed in, closed his eyes. 

"JD!" 

_Oh, no._ "Elliot, hey." 

God, she looked so cute with her hair up in a messy bun and a few stray wisps tucked impatiently back behind her ears. Her eyes searched his in concern. 

"You look awful." 

"Been hearing that a lot today." JD's lips curved upward into a tired smile. He ran a hand through his hair, standing it on end. Elliot stifled a giggle and reached up on tiptoe, her fingers smoothing the soft locks until they didn't look so askew. 

"You should go home," she said. 

"Nah, I'm fine." He knew it was a lie. "Come walk with me to the lounge." 

Elliot cocked her head at him. "You're on break?" 

"I am now." 

*** 

It was Cox who found JD sound asleep in the doctors' lounge a few hours later. He shook him awake. 

"Dammit JD, we've been paging you for God knows how long. Get up. Up, up, up, up, up! Come on now, rise and shine, time for school!" 

"What?" asked JD, confused. He sat up quickly and winced in pain. "What?" 

Then, something rare occurred. To his horror, Dr. Cox reached a hand out and gave him a--dare he say--fatherly pat on the shoulder. "You don't look so good, Newbie. Your shift's almost over, why don't you go on home." 

JD blinked, not registering. "What?" He repeated. 

"I said, get out of here." He started toward the door, then turned back on a whim. "Oh, and Newbie...you might want to think about seeing a doctor." 

Too tired to realize that what had just happened between him and Dr. Cox was nothing short of a miracle, JD got up and wearily headed home. 

*** 

_hmm...thanks for all the reviews, guys! hope this chapter is okay...i think it's my favorite so far. and i have another question: is anyone else as pissed off as i am that they didn't play Scrubs this thursday? :( _

P.S. I just wanted to thank those of you who've thrown out ideas for titles. You guys are great. I'm still debating on that one, though. Thanks again! 


	5. Life Sucks

Turk was working late that night, so JD was surprised when there was a knock at the door at around eight. It turned out to be Elliot, instead. 

"Hey," he said groggily, waving a little. She smiled. 

"Hi. I, um...I made some soup for you." She presented him with the brown paper bag she held in her hands. "Okay, I didn't actually make the soup. I bought it. But I bought it for you." 

JD smiled back. "Come on in," he said. 

"What's that?" 

"Oh! Um..." he blushed and shoved the offending item under the sofa cushion. "Yeah, those are my...Mickey Mouse boxers. My, uh, grandma bought them for me. When I was twelve." 

"Charming," she said, taking the soup from him and going into the kitchen, where she got a bowl and spoon out of the dishwasher. JD followed and grabbed her hand, pulling her back to the living room. She looked up at him, surprised, her fingers still clutching the spoon. Suddenly, JD didn't know what to say. 

Elliot dropped the spoon and it landed with a clatter on the floor. "Wanna do it?" She asked huskily. 

"Yeah." 

They giggled and kissed deeply, falling onto the couch. Their eyes locked and held each other, several seconds passed but neither one could look away. "Elliot," JD murmured, "I'm glad you're here." 

He would later remember it as the last time they ever made love together. 

*** 

A few days later, JD was checking some paperwork at the nurses' station when everything went black. He woke up with a massive headache and a bruise near his temple where he'd hit the counter, Dr. Cox, Carla, and Nurse Roberts hovering anxiously over him. 

"Oh God," he said, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, "what the hell happened?" 

Dr. Cox pried open one of JD's closed eyelids and directed a light into his pupil, frowning. "Unresponsive," he said to Carla, who looked worried and scribbled it down on a patient chart. 

"Should I call?" She asked. 

"Yeah." Dr. Cox exhaled slowly and collapsed into a chair, suddenly looking decades older than his forty years. He buried his face in his hands and mumbled something indecipherable. 

"What?" Carla said. 

"Nothing. Did you call for an MRI yet?" 

Laverne got up quickly. "Don't worry about a thing," she said to Carla over her shoulder, already bustling out the door, "I'll call." 

"Thanks, Laverne." Dr. Cox looked over at JD, his expression unreadable. "How're you doing there, Newbie?" 

"What happened?" JD asked again. 

"You blacked out. Hit your head." 

"You think I might have a grade 3 concussion?" 

"No." 

"Isn't that why I'm getting an MRI? I mean, we rarely give MRIs unless we think there might be bleeding in the brain. And I _did_ lose consciousness..." 

"Actually, you passed out _before_ you hit your head. Your loss of consciousness had nothing to do with a head injury." 

"Oh. So why do you want to--" 

Dr. Cox heaved a huge sigh and stood up. "See, the thing is, JD, perfectly healthy twenty-something-year-old's don't just black out for no apparent reason. We've been putting this off for way longer than we should have, but you need an MRI to rule out some pretty serious diseases." 

JD looked at him, then at Carla. She patted his hand. "Serious diseases?" He repeated, his voice going up an octave. 

"Yeah." Dr. Cox nodded. "Serious diseases." 

*** 

It was the first time JD had ever had an MRI, and he was a little nervous as they wheeled him to radiology. 

Actually, he was a basket case. 

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he muttered shakily, eyeing the MRI machine. 

"Suck it up, Rayna," Dr. Cox said, in a harsher tone than he'd meant. "Lookit, I gotta go." 

"You're leaving?" 

"Well, you know, life doesn't stop just 'cause ol' JD is afraid of something he shouldn't be afraid of. This isn't that hard. You're in there and back out in two seconds, and you do _not_ need me to hold your hand, because if I were to, that would be an insult to you. I'll see you later." 

"Hey, wait..." JD frowned as Cox stalked away without looking back. The x-ray tech, an elderly woman with graying hair and a kind smile, came to help him out of his wheelchair. JD took her offered arm and stood unsteadily on his feet. 

"Can I tell you something?" He asked. 

The tech nodded. 

"I'm scared." 

The tech gave him a hug. 

"Thank you," JD said. 

*** 

He was admitted that afternoon for observation, and Elliot and Turk came by to visit. Meanwhile, out in the hallway, Dr. Cox was in the middle of a heated discussion over the phone with one of the radiologists. 

"I need you to look at my patient's MRI. Yeah. John Dorian. Now would be nice. Dammit, Jason, don't do this to me! Don't put me on hold, you old sonofagun!" His joking tone disappeared. "_Dammit_!" 

"Calm down," Carla muttered from the nurse's station, rolling her eyes. Dr. Cox scowled at her. 

"Uh, Perry..." Jason the radiologist's voice came back on the line. "I think you'd better come down here right away..." 

*** 

"See that?" 

Jason the radiologist pointed out a dark mass on the MRI image. Dr. Cox sighed. 

"Yeah, I see it. How the hell could I miss it?" 

"Looks like it's just under the cerebellum, near the brain stem. I don't know if you want to do a biopsy; it's pretty characteristic of an astrocytoma. Your call, Perry." 

Dr. Cox stepped back and swore softly. "Dammit. Thanks, Jason." He took the developed MRI and left. 

"Sorry about your patient," Jason called after him. 

*** 

"I have cancer, don't I," JD said as soon as Dr. Cox stepped into his room. It was more of a statement than a question. His voice was flat. 

Cox nodded slowly. "Most likely, yes. The MRI showed a tumor that appears to be malignant." 

"Can I see?" JD studied the image, running his fingers over it. "Jesus," he muttered. 

"I've scheduled a stereotactic biopsy for tomorrow. Then you'll have a better idea of what you're dealing with and Dr. Zeltzer will want to talk with you about treatment options." 

"Um, Dr. Cox?" 

"Yeah." 

"How serious is it?" 

"We won't know until tomorrow." 

"Oh. Okay." JD looked down at his hands, then back up at Dr. Cox. "This really sucks." 

*** 

_Sorry this chapter took so long...hope you guys like it. I researched like crazy, so i am really, really praying that I incorporated all my medical stuff into it correctly. and if i didn't, well, then feel free to point it out to me because i'm sure i am horribly off base with the procedures and the diseases and just...everything. :p _

i'm not even sure if that made sense...oh well. i need to do my homework. argh. >:( 


	6. The Only Thing Left to do

_Statistics say that one in two American men and one in three American women will get cancer at some time in their lives. I learned that in my first year of med school. Not from a teacher or anything, it's just that a friend of a friend was dead set on specializing in oncology and she liked telling us these "fun facts!" over a plate of fries at the 24-hour diner where we usually ate. _

I can't tell you how glad I was that she was my friend's friend, and not my_ friend. _

It's strange, the false security being a doctor can give you. So much energy goes into treating your patients that you don't realize that in one moment, your life could change just like theirs. A couple of weeks ago I was a twenty-seven year old resident with a bad headache. Now, well...now, I'm the poor kid with cancer. 

Ignorance is bliss, they say. I knew something was wrong, I knew what to look for, it was all right in front of me. I just kept pretending it wasn't there. I was ignorant. And I was oh, so blissful. 

Right now, though, I'm just terrified. Because this is all hitting a little too close to home. Let's face it: I never thought cancer would happen to me. 

It wasn't supposed to happen to me. 

Why did this happen to me? 

*** 

Elliot fished a hard candy out of the jar at the nurses' station and checked her watch for the eleventh time that morning. "Do you think JD's out of surgery yet?" She asked Carla nervously. 

"I don't know. I don't know! And, guess what, Elliot? In the last five minutes since you've asked me that exact same question, I _still_ don't know!" 

"Oh." 

Carla sighed and hurried to fix whatever emotional damage she'd inflicted on her friend, who, at the moment, was looking more like a wounded kitten than a doctor. "I'm sorry...oh, honey, I know this is hard on all of us..." 

"It's hard on JD! He's the one with a brain tumor while we're down here, eating candy like it's a normal day when it's not! It's..." she deflated against the wall and the candy turned to sawdust in her mouth. "It's not." 

*** 

"Hey, Sunshine." 

Turk stuck his head into the surgical recovery room and spotted JD, sitting up in bed and looking extremely bored. He perked up considerably at the sound of Turk's voice. 

"Hey," he replied, sounding relieved. 

"How're you feeling, dude?" 

"Okay, I guess. Kinda tired. Kinda bummed. I'm going crazy in this goddamned hospital." 

Turk laughed. "You spend every day in here anyway." 

"Yeah, but I wasn't a patient. I mean, this sucks ass. I never knew what it was actually like." JD shrugged. "Hey, I was a healthy kid. And plus, I was freaking terrified of trees. And bicycles." He ignored the weird look Turk gave him. "So right there, no broken bones or concussions to worry about. Adding to that the fact that I never had the urge to drink anything under the sink, and you'll see why I didn't spend much time in hospitals until I became a med student." 

"This is hard on you, huh," Turk said, and instantly wanted to slap himself. _What the hell am I saying?_

"Yeah, it's a little tough." 

He winced at JD's sarcasm. "Sorry, man, I didn't mean--" 

"I know." A chuckle rose up in JD's throat. "Calm down, Chocolate Bear. You should see your face. You look like you got a stick up yo' ass." 

Turk couldn't help but laugh at the familiar nickname and at JD's attempted black-ness. "Don't, man." 

"Don't?" 

"No. Really, it--it's pathetic." 

"Really? 'Cause I thought I was getting better." 

"No, you aren't." 

"I'm not?" 

"Nah." 

"Oh." There was an awkward silence. "Okay," JD said finally, with an almost hysterical giggle. 

It made Turk smile. Before, he'd been afraid that JD's diagnosis would change things between them, that they wouldn't be the best friends they'd been before. Now, he was just afraid for JD. 

*** 

Dr. Zeltzer closed two hands tightly around the pathologist's lab report on JD and paused outside the open door that led into the young man's room. With the slightest hesitation, he knocked quietly and entered. 

"Hi," JD said, amiably enough, though his eyes definitely lacked their usual spark. He gestured halfheartedly to a chair against the far wall. "Wanna sit down?" 

"No," Dr. Zeltzer said nervously. He inched a little closer to JD's bed, not so close as to make his patient uncomfortable, but close enough to maintain the caring-doctor image. Blinking furiously, he stared down at the lab report. 

"So...what's it say?" 

"Oh! Um, right." He nodded and quickly closed the folder. "Well, John--" 

"It's JD, actually." 

"JD. Right." 

JD stared. Dr. Zeltzer fidgeted a little, and his left eye twitched. "Um...what I was saying was..." 

"Hey, hey, don't start the party without me, now." 

Dr. Cox hurried in and hastily took the seat JD had offered Zeltzer. "I didn't miss anything, did I?" He asked, crossing his arms, oblivious to the tiny smile that suddenly appeared across JD's face. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Come on, Newbie, why would I want to miss something like this? It's almost like a Britney Spears concert, minus the boobs. And, well, everything else." He nodded at Dr. Zeltzer. "You were saying, Paul?" 

"Right. Um. JD, you have a high-grade astrocytoma. A, uh, glioblastoma." 

Dr. Cox folded his hands over his eyes and exhaled loudly. "Jesus," he mumbled. 

"Glioblastoma," JD said slowly, digesting the word. "Meaning?" 

"It's, ah, not good." 

"_Meaning?_" JD repeated, with a touch of annoyance in his voice. Dr. Zeltzer appeared uncomfortable. Cox rolled his eyes. 

"My God, Paul, do you have any balls at all? Tell him! Tell him good. Tell him everything he needs to know." 

Dr. Zeltzer took a deep, deep breath. "JD, the tumor in your brain is an agressive, fast-growing astrocytoma. It's located in the lower part of your brain, the cerebellum. Uh, do you understand?" 

He nodded slowly and looked away. "What--" His voice caught, and he cleared his throat, feeling that maybe he should be crying, should be sad, he could _die_, but he was just stunned. "What are we gonna do now?" 

"First, you'll need surgery. Unfortunately, though, tumors like yours aren't cured by surgery alone because the cancer cells infiltrate into surrounding brain tissue. So we're not aiming to cure. We're aiming to reduce the size of the tumor so it can be better treated with radiation." 

"Uh," JD said, raising his hand a little. Cox and Zeltzer looked at him. He closed his eyes and hated himself for having to ask this. "What are my chances? Of, you know, living." 

Dr. Zeltzer opened his mouth to answer, but Perry beat him to it. "Surviving, Newbie, your chances are slim. Most malignant brain tumors are not curable, and with glioblastoma, we wouldn't expect you to live more than twelve to eighteen months. But living...Jesus, JD, I don't usually say things like this, but I'll just say it: when all you're looking at is death, the only thing you have left to do is live." 

He turned as Dr. Zeltzer tapped earnestly on his shoulder. 

"That was beautiful." 

Cox shook himself and groaned. "Ugh, what did I just _say_? 'The only thing you have left to do is live'? God, am I on crack or something?" Still mumbling to himself, he got up and left the room. JD shook his head, a little baffled. 

"Thanks, uh, Dr. Zeltzer," he said after a few seconds of silence. 

"No problem." On his way out the door, Dr. Zeltzer stopped and turned around. 

"Are you, uh, gonna be okay?" 

JD shrugged. "I guess," was all he could think of to say. But it was enough. Dr. Zeltzer nodded and left. And JD sat in bed, more alone than he'd ever felt before. 

*** 

_jenben--hey, i was reading your story, and realized that a few of the phrases you used in yours ("ignorance is bliss", and the part about "spending so much time" in the hospital), i'd also used in this chapter. sorry in advance! it was a coincidence, i swear :)_


	7. That's what we Doctors do, Right?

The pretty blonde nurse--her nametag said Denise, but he thought she looked more like a Laura-- smiled at JD very cheerfully, but he couldn't bring himself to do the same. She smelled good, a little like strawberries and sunshine, and if he'd been anywhere else, at a bar, maybe, or even at the grocery store, shopping for eggs and cereal and orange juice, that scent would have driven him crazy. Now, though, it just made him nauseous. Her arms circled tightly around him and he cringed; she held his body against her own and he shrank away from her touch without even realizing it. 

"JD?" Her voice, high and sweet and tinged with concern, gave him a lump in his throat as she slowly released him and let her arms fall to her sides. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah." JD nodded and faked a smile that came out more like a grimace. His muscles refused to relax. He was painfully aware of his heart beating an insane rhythm in his chest, and felt suddenly overwhelmed with dizziness and the urge to throw up. Gripping the sides of the bed, reeling, he sat up quickly and pressed a hand over his eyes. "I, uh--I need a minute." 

Denise--or was it Laura?--smiled with all the understanding in the world and gently guided his head into his lap. "Breathe," she instructed. JD breathed. 

"You okay now?" She asked, after five minutes had passed. 

"Yeah," JD said and lay back down on his side, folded up into himself, hugging his knees to his chest. Denise nodded at the doorway, where Elliot had been standing. "He's ready, Doctor Reid." 

Elliot nodded mechanically and pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box by the door. 

"Don't worry, this will only hurt for a second," she said, though they both knew she was lying. JD chuckled, but it was an automatic, nervous response. Nothing was funny; in fact, it was the opposite of funny, it was _anti-funny._ But then he figured that it was better to laugh than to cry, especially in front of Elliot and this cute nurse. 

JD's hospital gown was open in the back, revealing his red plaid boxers. Elliot blushed and averted her eyes. 

"I'm gonna, um, start now, okay?" 

"Okay," JD said. He felt Elliot's hands trembling slightly as she tapped along his backbone with the tips of her fingers "Hey, are you sure you're up to this?" 

"What?" 

"You seem a little...nervous." 

"JD, I'm a professional," Elliot said curtly. "I _think_ I can handle it." 

"Okay," he singsonged, knowing it'd get on her nerves. 

"_JD!_" 

"I thought you were a professional?" 

She sighed loudly, obviously perturbed, and blew at a strand of disobediant hair that had come loose from her bun and drifted into her face. JD jolted as she swabbed at his lower back with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. 

"_Ahh!_" 

"Cold?" Elliot asked sweetly. She nodded to Denise, and the nurse tightened her grip on JD. 

"I'm going to inject some local anesthesia. It might burn for a few seconds." 

JD gritted his teeth. "I know," he said. 

The pain started as a small, compact dot, a single flame burning just beneath his skin. Then it spread, licking up his back and down his legs and through his whole body, and for a long moment JD was decidedly uncomfortable. And then he could breathe again. But it was far from over. 

Elliot's voice came from behind him, a hushed murmur. JD wondered why she didn't speak a little louder so he could hear her, but then it occured to him that he wasn't supposed to hear her, that she was talking to herself. He could see her, in his mind, with that worried, uncertain frown and those tiny wrinkles etched into her forehead that she sometimes got when she was concentrating hard. Hell, she was probably about as scared as him. 

While he was busy thinking all of this, she slid the needle in, between his vertebrae and into the spinal column. First, all he felt was pressure. Then with the sharp, sudden explosion of pain, JD arched his back and cried out; Nurse Denise held him firmly and said something in a soft, soothing voice that he couldn't understand. 

He didn't know how long it took, or even what happened after the first few seconds. And then Denise's arms weren't around him anymore, but she was peering over him with a fake smile, saying that everything had gone fine, they'd have the results back soon, and if he could just lie impeccably still for a couple of hours or so, he could avoid that completely excruciating post-procedure headache. 

JD wasn't listening to her, however. The only thing he could see, over and over in his mind, was Elliot's stricken face as she hurried from the room. 

*** 

So JD did end up with a headache after the spinal tap. In fact, he had to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed, which sucked, but not too bad because there wasn't much else to do in a hospital anyway. 

He hadn't seen Elliot since noon, since she'd stuck a three-foot-long hollow needle--okay, so it wasn't nearly that long, but the way it hurt, it sure felt like it--into his back, and he figured she would at least stop by and apologize. So he was mildly disappointed when Carla came to visit after her shift and told him that Elliot had left, a long time ago. 

"Sorry, Bambi," she said. JD smiled wanly. 

"Nah, it was stupid anyway. Why should I expect her to be sorry for doing her job?" 

"You shouldn't," Carla said cheerfully. "But I'm sorry that she couldn't find it in her heart to check on a sick friend." She settled down into a chair by the bed. "So? How are you doing?" 

JD shrugged. "Good?" It was more a question than a statement. He let his head roll back against the pillows and closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. "During the surgery--I mean, my second surgery--they removed as much of the tumor as they could. And the spinal was to see if anything had spread into the cerebrospinal fluid. So if it has, then--" here, he grinned slightly "--they get to nuke my entire brain _and_ my spinal cord, instead of just where the tumor is." 

"Fun," Carla muttered. 

"Tell me about it. The weird thing is, the radiation is more effective against faster-growing cells. So it's a good thing that I've got a high-grade astrocytoma than a lower-grade. Zeltzer is actually kind of optimistic." JD shrugged again, picking at a loose thread on his blanket. "And then after radiation, I'll need chemo." 

Carla nodded slightly and patted JD's hand. Chemo could be pretty devastating, both physically and mentally. She didn't know quite what to say to comfort him, but then he pulled his hand away from under hers and smiled a smile that wasn't his. It was twisted, angry. He glanced away, at the TV, which was muted. A man in a bright red apron grinned at the camera and demonstrated some sort of vegetable chopper. It can slice this. It can cut that. After a few awkward seconds of silence, JD looked back at Carla. 

"It might buy me a couple more months." He fingered the sleeve of his hospital gown unconsciously, playing with the soft, thin fabric. "That's what we doctors do, right? Postpone the inevitable?" This time it was Carla who looked away. 

She gathered her things, hugged JD, and left. He raised the volume on the TV without knowing why. He wasn't watching it anyway. 

*** 

_Hey, guys. So I suddenly missed writing about JD and Elliot and everyone else, and decided to write another chapter. I guess I just needed to put it down for a little while. :) Thanks to the people who reviewed...if it weren't for you, I probably would've dropped this story and never picked it back up. Your comments mean a lot to me. Thank you very much. :) I hope you like this chapter. I have a couple of ideas on how I'm going to finish this story...yeah, it might still be a little predictable, but I'll try keep it interesting. _

Sorry this chapter doesn't include Dr. Cox, Turk, and the rest. I don't quite know why. Hope it's still okay. :) 

And I hope my research is paying off! Thanks to the American Cancer Society at www.cancer.org for all the info. 

Okay, I think this author's note is long enough...how about you? :p 


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